


Batty Cake

by NadoHunter



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, F/M, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bruce is bad at baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 01:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadoHunter/pseuds/NadoHunter
Summary: Bruce, despite being banned from the kitchen wants to try and bake something special before Clark and Diana arrive. Also known as "How NOT to Bake a Cake 101".





	Batty Cake

Bruce rubbed his hands together as he took a deep breath. “Right…” He clapped his hands together before adjusting his reading glasses, leaning in to get a better look at ipad he had gingerly propped up on the kitchen counter.

“Right.” He nodded in determination.

He was the fucking Batman, there was no way he couldn’t bake a  _ cake _ . He began scrolling down at the recipe he found, furrowing his brows at how long it was taking to get past what he felt was this recipe writer’s life story, something about children… bragging about the places they had been… he rolled his eyes as he tried to zoom past a lengthy part about this particular cake’s history, when he finally got to the actual recipe. He leaned forward on the counter, running over and studying every step in preparation. How hard could making a sponge cake really be?

“ _ Preheat oven… _ ”

Easy enough. He crossed over to the oven, he stared at it a moment, trying to press the little arrow buttons to turn the heat on… or up… or…. Whatever.

He grimaced and nearly smacked his head as he realized he had to hit “bake” first and  _ then _ set the temperature.

No matter, he just was usually banned from the kitchen, he wasn’t used to it – that’s all. Alfred was out now, he’d be in and out of the kitchen quickly and painlessly, even if he wasn’t used to it. He’d make sure not to make a mess this time so maybe Alfred would have more faith in him when he walked into the kitchen next time.

“ _ 350 degrees… okay, now what?” _

He bit his lip as he read the next line of the recipe. “ _ Grease an 8 inch pan…” _ He picked up the cake pan he had preemptively pulled out before running his gaze around the kitchen looking slightly lost.

“With  _ what?” _ he thought out loud. What on earth do you grease a cake pan with?

Oil, he decided, you could cook things in oil to stop them from sticking to the pan, right? So he triumphantly stood on his toes as he reached up the top shelf of one of the cabinets to pull down the first bottle of olive oil from it and drizzled it in the pan, rubbing it around with a paper towel.

Yes, that seemed right.

The next step was to whisk the wet ingredients together, simple enough…

Milk, four eggs, vanilla…

He combined the exact amounts, blissfully unaware that he had forgotten to check that he had grabbed the vanilla extract, and not almond extract.

What do you whisk something with, but a whisk!  _ Easy _ . He grabbed the utensil, placed it in the bowl and…

How  _ did _ you whisk something? He tapped his foot, he had seen Alfred do this before right?

Flicking his wrist rapidly as he tried to mimic the movement from his memory, he sent the ingredients swirling in the bowl, stopping with a panic as he managed to send some of the mixture flying out onto the counter and onto his shirt.

So this is why you wear an apron it seems. Lesson learned.

He grunted, peeling his shirt uncomfortably from where it had begun to stick to his skin from becoming damp. He pulled it off and dashed up to his room, dropping the discarded dark blue shirt onto the floor as he entered the bedroom, making a mental note to remember to pick it up later as he pulled a new button down on. Seems like this  _ wasn’t _ going to be one of the few days he wasn’t wearing all black after all.

He jogged back down to the kitchen where he had left his work so far, trying his best to wipe up some of the mess he made and snatching up and tying an apron decorated with cherries he found in the pantry around himself.

Then, he looked back at his wet ingredient mixture. He had spilled some, so he figured he should add some of the ingredients back in, he could eyeball it – he was sure.

After that the next task was the dry ingredients… which called for a whisk on the lowest setting of a handheld beater.

He eyed the small machine with two metal whisks attached he had been dreading. It was fiiiiiiiiiiine, he could do this.

He measured out the ingredients, placed the mechanism in the bowl and….

He turned it on too fast on accident. Suddenly he was sneezing as he was enveloped in a cloud of flour, cornstarch, and a lot of salt that he thought was the sugar.

He strode across the kitchen to the sink to wipe his face off, eyeing his phone as he did. Maybe he could….  _ No _ he would  _ not _ call Alfred. He was not going to be a rich boy about this, he could bake and cook  _ perfectly well if he wanted to thank you very much _ .

He tried again, this time more carefully flicking the machine on and only spilling  _ some _ of the ingredients out of the bowl this time which he added back in haphazardly to try and cover for his error. It couldn’t matter  _ that _ much.

Next he had to slowly add butter to the mixture while beating it. Well, he beat criminals up all the time, this couldn’t be too difficult.

Arguably, this was the most successful step even if he had used salted, and not unsalted butter.

Now to combine the two mixtures, he was sure he had gotten the hand of the hand mixer now, holding it steady, minimal spillage…. He’d clean up the mess later.

He smiled triumphantly as he realized the next step was simply to put the batter in the pan and stick it in the oven. Easy! People made such a big deal about baking being hard, but Bruce decided that  _ that _ hadn’t been hard at all! Minimal mistakes, maybe he was missing his calling as a baker.

Now wouldn’t that be a sight? Bruce Wayne the Baker. Batman the Baker.

His phone buzzed, and he wiped his dirtied hands on his apron. He smiled softly to himself, Diana and Clark were going to be over soon, so he decided he’d hurry up and cut up strawberries and make the cream for when the cake was done.

\---

Bruce was quite the sight to see when Clark and Diana walked into the kitchen, following their noses to what smelled like slightly overcooked bread.

The man’s black hair and eyelashes were dusted slight grey with baking flour coating them, apron a mess from hands wiped all over them, flecks of cake batter on the counter on and on Bruce’s arms and face. Clark even spotted some batter that had somehow made its maiden voyage up to the kitchen ceiling.

“You’re… baking?” Diana was the first to ask, amusement clear on her face as she watched Bruce struggling to put rapidly melting whipped cream on a still very warm and flat looking “cake”.

“ _ Have _ been baking.” Bruce corrected, look of determination slightly overshadowed as a playful smile made its way onto his face.

Clark and Diana sat at the tall chairs on the other side of the counter together. Clark had the strong urge to reach over and help him, or tell him he probably needs to wait for the cake to cool before decorating it. But it was Bruce trying to bake… he couldn’t interrupt that, it would be rude.

Bruce messily placed strawberries over the top of the cake, deciding to call it done as he stepped back to take a look at his work.

He frowned. He had been so focused… it didn’t look…  _ great _ . But it was cake, even if it wasn’t pretty it would taste good.

Clark inhaled deeply and Diana looked wary as she spotted the look of panic that leaked into Clark’s eyes despite his strong attempt to keep a smile on his face.

“ _ Salt.” _ Clark could already smell it. Cake should smell sweet, he should be able to pick out the sugar, but no… it was incredibly… incredibly salty. Not to mention he was sure he smelled a whiff of burnt olive oil.

“B-Bruce…” He stammered smile now straining. “Honey…”

Bruce was already excitedly, and messily plating cake slices for all three of them. Bruce was _smiling._ **_Smiling_**. He didn’t have the heart to ruin it. He looked at Diana for help, but she was just as insistent on not ruining his mood.

Bruce sat down with them, practically  _ beaming _ . Why oh why did this have to be one of the moments their B was happy and excited about something.

Diana quickly took a bite, hoping she could chew and swallow quickly. The salt Clark had smelled assaulted her tongue and she covered her mouth, squinting in a failed attempt to hide her distaste.

Clark took a slow bite. The strawberries and whipped cream helped, but the salt was simply overpowering, not to mention a dry slightly bitter sponge cake wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“ _ mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.” _ Clark hummed, hoping to pass it off despite “mmm-ing” just a little too long.

Their hearts fell as Bruce’s cheerful expression fell. “You don’t like it…”

“No! It’s good!” Clark and Diana both managed to say in a panic at the same time before looking at each other wearily.

“Though… uh… maybe a little …  _ salty? _ ” Diana suggested calmly, putting a hand over Bruce’s in an effort to reassure him.

Bruce raised an eyebrow and slid Diana’s plate closer to him, stealing her fork and taking a bite of his own, only to immediately grimace and spit it out into a napkin.

“Salty.” He confirmed bluntly, his eyes drifted back to the counter where the many ingredients laid strewn about still on the counter. “…I added salt instead of sugar.”

He leaned on the counter and sighed, huffing as his way of laughing at himself. “Guess I hadn’t conquered the art of baking like I thought.”

Diana stood and squeezed his shoulder. “Perhaps not, but even Batman doesn’t need to be perfect at everything right away.” She soothed.

Clark stood and joined her, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and kissing his temple with a smile. “It’s the thought that counts. Besides, if you really want to bake, it can be a lot of fun together. Ma and Pa and I used to do it all the time!”

Diana smiled and squeezed Clark’s hand at the idea. “That’s right! Why don’t we try again, all together this time?”

Bruce hummed, leaning into Clark’s chest and affectionately wrapping a strand of Diana’s long soft hair around his finger. “Only if you both help me clean up so Alfred doesn’t hate me for using the kitchen and so much of the baking supplies.”

Diana kissed the very tip of his nose, ruffling his hair playfully and sending some of the flour spilling out of it. “Of course sweet bat. Let’s get started shall we?”

“I’ll grease the pan.” Clark announced, separating from the trio’s embrace. He stopped and booped Bruce’s nose teasingly. “With  _ butter _ , not  _ olive oil _ .”

A sheepish shy smile spread across Bruce’s face, jokingly slipping into the voice he tended to use to play the air-headed billionaire. “So  _ that’s _ what that means.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written to give fluff to a friend (causeimanartist) after too much angst content and also just because they're an amazing person. So this short story is written and dedicated to them <3


End file.
